


Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason I Know I'm Asexual

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: (as asexual), Again, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, but who knows when i'll actually finish that, im writing a longer sequel with more of a plot to my faery au, in the meantime please enjoy a lot of short fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete realises that Patrick is asexual before Patrick does, and they discuss their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason I Know I'm Asexual

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry for the title, i couldn't think what to call it & i was listening to 'pete wentz is the only reason we're famous' by cobra starship so this terrible pun occurred,,,, i'm not super happy w how this turned out but i've been wanting to write something similar for a while i guess. i will never tire of fluffy, awkward peterick. i wanted to have pete as either sex positive or sex neutral ace but i ALSO wanted a relationship between an ace character and a non-ace so here it is.  
>  **send me prompts & shit @ saverockandsoulpvnk on tumblr **you can also ask me there for my main tumblr if you want ;) as always i love you all!!****

  
" _Pete_ ," Patrick whined, because he assumed he was supposed to. He looked down at Pete's head, his stretched lips - tried not to look at what was in his mouth - and felt a little queasy. It was okay, he just had to get through this for five minutes and then it would be over. He might be messed up, but until he got the confidence to go see a doctor about it, he didn't need to inflict it on Pete. Pete, who looked like a dark, seductive angel - eyes sleepy and smudgy but always bright, brighter now as they looked up and met Patrick's. He smiled, and Patrick shuddered at the image; it almost ruined Pete's beauty when his lips stretched like that.

Taking the motion as enjoyment, Pete smirked and sucked Patrick even deeper. Cringing, Patrick realised he hadn't made any sound in a while. "Yeah, yeah, like that," he groaned, inwardly grimacing at how put-on it sounded. Pete ignored it, bobbing his head and putting a hand on Patrick's hips. That, Patrick could take, softening into the comforting touch. He opened his mouth to moan something - he wasn't sure what: his panicked brain could only supply him with 'Pete' and 'yeah' but Patrick was sure people to whom it came naturally generally said more than two different words - when Pete pulled of and sat back on his heels, staring up at Patrick.

Torn between relief and terror, Patrick wiped his mouth, for lack of anything else to do. Relief: the ordeal was over. Terror: Pete had stopped and was looking worriedly at him and he didn't just stop for no reason in the middle of a blowjob, which means he was going to say something, and probably something bad.

Cocking his head, Pete said, "You're not enjoying this." He didn't sound angry, or hurt, just concerned. Patrick considered protesting, but Pete could be pretty stern when he wanted to, and he knew something was wrong. Patrick lowered his head in defeat. Scrambling to his feet, Pete quickly wrapped Patrick in a mildly asphyxiating embrace. "No, don't be like that, I don't mean... Look, if it's too soon for us or whatever, we'll wait. That's okay. Or if you're worried about something else, please tell me?"

Patrick blinked at Pete, considered taking the line he'd been thrown and making up something about it being too early in the relationship, but that was just a temporary delay that would only make things worse when he continued to show apparently obvious discomfort. "Can we... can we go sit down? 'Cause I need to, I mean, I should tell you something." Grimacing at his own stuttering awkwardness, Patrick sat down on the hotel bed, followed by Pete.

"So I'm... oh _god_ , I didn't want to tell you - I was going to just fake it all the time. This is so fucked up, okay, but I don't like sex. Like I just- yeah. I _hate_ it, and I think everything sexual is really gross and it makes me uncomfortable and... I mean, I've _done_ it before, a couple times - all girls - and it was, it was manageable I guess, but it was awkward for me and probably bad for them and I mean I came but it wasn't like, _good_ , and I kind of hated it. I don't know what wrong with me but it's not - I _am_ into you, it's not that, I mean I think I'm in _love_ with you, but I'm going to go and see a doctor and get sorted the fuck out, now. It's kind of embarrassing, so I never had the motivation before but. I want to. For _you_ , so we can... _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry, this must suck for you I mean- but it's not because you did anything wrong I'm just really screwed up I guess." Patrick's voice was hoarse by the end and he had to fight not to cry.

At least Pete wasn't breaking up with him, or crying, or angry. He was actually staring at Patrick incredulously. "Patrick-"  
"Yeah, I know. But it's _okay_ , I'm fucked up, and I accept it and I'm going to get help. It's like your bipolar, y'know, it's doesn't make you a bad person, you just have to-"  
Still staring with a slightly confused expression, Pete repeated more urgently, "Patrick! _Listen_ , okay? You're not fucked up-"

Patrick sighed. He was so used to saying the same for Pete, usually late at night, and now that it was reversed, he had a new level of empathy for Pete. "I _am_. It's _okay_. You don't need to, like-" Woah, now Pete had grabbed his shoulders and was sitting with his face an inch from Patrick's.

"Shut _up_ , god! You are _not_ fucked up, and you do _not_ need- please listen to me, okay, I know this. You're _asexual_ , Patrick. It's not bad, you're not sick or something, right? It's like being gay, where you can't control it or fix it and I mean, hopefully you don't want to," Pete grabbed Patrick's chin to get him to look, then must've felt bad for scaring him and relaxed his grip. Softly guiding Patrick to meet his eyes, Pete took his hand and smiled gently. 

"I can't believe you went through all this time just thinking you were a screw-up. It's a real thing, okay, I read about it on the Internet. Yeah, I know there's a ton of bullshit on there but this is _real_. Like, homosexual, bisexual, heterosexual, asexual. I'm sorry if I made you think you couldn't tell me I mean - fuck, you can't have thought I wanted you to just quietly suffer through sex you _hated_!"

Opening his mouth to interrupt, Patrick was interrupted by Pete's laptop, which had been open on the bed, being thrust into his lap. Pete leaned across to type something into the search engine and then sat back when a page loaded. Encouragingly, he brushed a strand of hair out of Patrick's eye and murmured, "Read it." With a worried but loving expression, he searched Patrick's eyes and then indicated the laptop again with his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Patrick read. From what he could gather, an asexual was someone who doesn't feel sexual attraction - some of them didn't mind sex but it didn't really do anything for them. Some, like Patrick, hated it and others liked it. he turned to Pete, trying to make his mouth explain.

"I'm..." He hadn't though about what he was going to say. More worryingly, what were they going to do? Was Pete going to break up with him? On some levels, this was worse than when he thought it was some kind of medical problem. Now, there was no hope of ever being able to, and while Patrick was desperately in need of some time to let his whole view of himself re-align, to absorb this huge new development, he now had to stop his boyfriend and possibly love of his life from breaking up with him.

Easily, Pete pulled Patrick into his lap, taking in Patrick's stricken expression. His fiddling with Patrick's hair was oddly comforting. "Hey, hey, look. Okay, I get that this is, like, a really big thing so what we're going to do is, go to bed right now, and you can sleep on it and then have all of tomorrow to think about it, and then we'll have a conversation about what we do, okay? You don't need to sort anything out right now. If you want to ask me about anything, that's ok, too," An alarmed noise was pulled from Patrick as Pete yanked him into a hug without warning, and Pete mumbled into his neck, "Fuck, I'm so glad you know now - please never do anything like that again - god, I can't believe you were going to go to the hospital about it... sorry." Pete snorted at what he clearly thought was a decidedly absurd suggestion and then cut himself off, apologising.

"Are you going to break up with me?" Patrick blurted suddenly.  
Pete's eyes widened. "Oh. Well that's the kind of thing we would talk about tomorrow evening."  
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Patrick blushed. "Sorry, sorry, yeah. I just- I mean... I wouldn't," Shyly, he ducked his head, "I wouldn't be able to, like, 'think about it' if I didn't know if you were going to. It's like-"

" _Patrick_." The way Pete said his name indicated that he'd already said it a few times and been ignored. He shuffled until he could look into his partner's eyes, and took both his hands, eyes glimmering earnestly. "Patrick, I _love_ you. I don't want to put any more pressure on you than you're already feeling with all this, so I'm telling you that because it's the kind of love that wants you to be happy, over everything else. Second to that, it wants as much of you as it can but that is _second_ to your happiness. What I'm trying to say, even less eloquently than usual, is that I want as much of you as I can get - even if that doesn't include sex: even if it's just being friends. Whatever part of you I get, I want you to be happy, so I'd rather have less and you be happier, than more and have you uncomfortable and pressured. I think I said 'happy' there more times than I've ever said it the rest of my life... Anyway, I'm not going to break up with you, unless you want me to. I- I don't want to get into this whole conversation before either of us have had a chance to think, but I want to work something out, okay?"

Two pairs of front teeth chewed two bottom lips, one redder and more curved and the other spilt from smiling too hard with chapped lips. "Yeah, okay."

***

That phrase 'I want to work something out' was stuck in Patrick's head all night as he lay with Pete curled into his side. He considered calling one his parents or his brother or something but last time he'd come out his mom had had to put him on hold while she googled 'bisexual' and then talked to him as if he was some kind of magical being for about a week, as if she was in awe of the possibility that someone could be into more than one gender at once, and his brother had snorted and said, "Yeah, thanks for telling me but I saw you looking at that uh... whatshisname, somebody Pearson, when you were ten."  
"Jamie Pearson," Patrick completed guiltily, and hung up wondering why everyone always knew things about him before he ever did.

He wondered it again now, glancing at Pete, who seemed to be asleep but could easily be faking, and sighed loudly. _'I want to work something out'_. Patrick couldn't do that to Pete, couldn't just stop him having sex ever again for the rest of his life - that wasn't fair. But he also couldn't conceivably suddenly overcome his immense distaste every time a situation became mildly sexual. An idea came to his mind. He didn't like it, but it meant a happy Pete _and_ a Pete who would still (mainly) be Patrick's.

***

"I've been thinking," Patrick said as soon as Pete woke up, not waiting until evening like he said the night before. Pete shook his head blearily, barely aware of what was going on. "And I worked something out. We could have an open relationship, like you could date me and then you could have other people who you could, um... _y'know_. I want to- I _really_ want to be able to do it for you, Pete, so badly, but I just... I _can't_."  
Through a foggy haze of sleep, Pete struggled with the duvet until he was rolled over, facing Patrick. His face contorted like he was looking at a sad, homeless puppy; Patrick didn't appreciate this coming from Pete who was usually the _king_ of acting and looking like a sad, homeless puppy.

"Patrick, your poker face is pretty shitty, for a guy who likes acting, so I can tell you wouldn't really be okay with that."  
"Maybe I wouldn't," Patrick admitted, "But I'd... I'd _manage_ it. I don't-" How could he explain that Pete said he didn't mind, but after a few months of frustration he might think different? Patrick would rather share Pete than not have him at all.

"Okay, I'm, like, pretty offended that you think I'd be happy to do that while you're just, like, sitting at home hating every second of it, or whatever. I _love_ you, do you get that? You're not just a fling, or something, and _I'm_ not some kind of animalistic creature that can't survive without sex. Y'know when I had that... that one piercing? I didn't get laid in like three years. There's monks and shit who don't even jerk off, like ever, in their lives. I'll manage, okay? That's not what we're talking about, right, that's not even up for debate. I would chose dating you over some faceless blonde sucking my dick three times a night. I meant we would talk about like... I mean, making out - do you even like _that_? What are your, like, limits, 'cause I don't want to make you do anything, or not understand what you want or whatever."

Patrick took a deep breath. He wanted to discuss the first issue further, because Pete _said_ it was fine now but people changed their minds and Patrick really wanted to avoid walking in on Pete, two years from now, getting fucked in a basement at a party because he couldn't take it. If it was going to happen anyway, Patrick preferred it on his terms, when he knew about it. "Okay, but if it... If you change your mind, tell me? I want you to- I don't want you to change your mind and it to get between us or make tension or make you ch-" Pete hand was at his back, stroking softly, and Pete didn't say anything but his look of intensity make Patrick shut up. As long as Pete knew that Patrick preferred being told than being cheated on.

"Okay, well I... making out? That's, yeah, I... like that." He giggled shyly, aware of Pete's eyes on him. Patrick liked how Pete's eyes crinkled up when he smiled. "You're too pure - you actually _giggle_ when you talk about making out. Do you, heh, do you like. Do it by yourself?"  
A wrinkle in Patrick's brow showed his puzzlement. "What, make out with myself?"  
Pete snorted. "No, I mean, _it_. Do you jerk off?"  
"I. That's kind of... But I mean - I- yes," He could feel his cheeks heating up, wondered if Pete wouldn't believe him that he was 'asexual' now, think that Patrick was just trying to avoid putting out for some other reason.

"That's okay," Pete laughed lightly at Patrick's embarrassment, "A lot of asexual people do that. I just..." he dropped his eyes in a way that made Patrick swallow when he started talking again. "Say no if you wouldn't be comfortable, please. I don't want you to feel- Just. Would you let me, maybe, like... watch you?"

" _Oh_." Truthfully, Patrick hadn't even thought about that. It did seem like a fair compromise, and it surely wouldn't be that huge of a deal to just do what he always did, but with someone else in the room - although presumably also jerking off. "I don't kn- could I, like, think about it? I mean, it's like... probably? But I hadn't considered it so I want to..." Lying awake last night, Patrick _had_ considered the possibility of him giving Pete a handjob. It didn't seem nearly as awful as anything where mouths were involved, didn't make him cringe like the thought of someone touching him, or, well, fucking him - but it was impossible to imagine, lying in the dark, his hand, around a dick, and he couldn't decide if he would be okay with it when he couldn't really conceive of it.

"I didn't mean like, right this second, or anything. I was just thinking of things like, theoretically that you might-"  
"I could..." Patrick gulped, "I was thinking that I might be okay with, um, doing it... for you? Not straight away. But I... Yeah." He tried to ignore how red his face must be when Pete smiled at him, a smile that contained nothing other than encouragement, and possibly love.

"Okay, that's- Just don't rush anything, okay? I'm so touched that you would _consider_ any of it at all, for _me_. I just want you to be comfy with everything you do, right. So I, well, I'll never bring anything up, so it's up to you if you ever feel okay to do something. But I want you to tell me what's going on, how you're feeling all that, like, as a general rule, with stuff," He said earnestly, meeting Patrick's eyes.

Unable to hold back his grin, Patrick nodded. He didn't think anyone had ever loved him like this before. He yawned. Pete shifted a little next to him and mumbled, "We said we wouldn't talk about this until the evening, and it's only like eight AM. I'm superfuckingtired and we don't have to leave until eleven, so can we please make the most of this mattress, which is the softest mattress have ever had the good fortune to encounter and accordingly demands respect and usage."  
"You want to go back to sleep?"  
"Mmm-hmm."  
"Lazy ass."  
" _Your_ lazy ass."  
"That is so cheesy and cliched, and I am still not going anywhere near your ass."  
"Love you."


End file.
